12. Anything else you’d like to share??
12. Anything else you’d like to share??
Title: The Upside of Unrequited
Author: Becky Albertalli
Published: April 11th, 2017
Length: 352 pages (TOO SHORT)
Starring: 5 FUCKING STARS
Seventeen-year-old Molly Peskin-Suso knows all about unrequited love. No matter how many times her twin sister, Cassie, tells her to woman up, Molly can’t stomach the idea of rejection. So she’s careful. Fat girls always have to be careful.
Then a cute new girl enters Cassie’s orbit, and for the first time ever, Molly’s cynical twin is a lovesick mess. Meanwhile, Molly’s totally not dying of loneliness—except for the part where she is. Luckily, Cassie’s new girlfriend comes with a cute hipster-boy sidekick. If Molly can win him over, she’ll get her first kiss and she’ll get her twin back.
There’s only one problem: Molly’s coworker, Reid. He’s a chubby Tolkien superfan with a season pass to the Ren Faire, and there’s absolutely no way Molly could fall for…
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Hey, pals. I’ve been wanting to document my travel wardrobe for some time now and after I got 12 billion questions about my red dress from London, I decided now was a good time to start. Below are all my outfits for the 2017 London Book Fair along with links and my thoughts on each piece! Hope you enjoy and please let me know in the comments if you have any questions ❤
I wore this outfit for my first night out and I really loved it. The boots are super comfy and I really like the lace up design in the back. I’ve worn them since on a night where I walked a lot and had no pain issues. The open-back sweater is an older piece from Charlotte Russe, so I am not sure if it’s still available but I found another cute option that’s similar and included the link below. The phone case I actually didn’t order but it came with another case I bought by accident (lol oops.) It’s cute though, especially if you’re a fan of unicorns like me 🙂
On the first day of the fair, I opted for this dark green vintage style swing dress. I spoke on a panel that day (which happened to be on an ALL PINK stage) so I wanted to offset my hair with a darker shade. This dress fits well/true to size. It’s especially flattering if you have a bigger bust, and it was definitely comfortable. Next time I wear it, I’ll have my hair up to show off the high collar. My shoes are originally from Modcloth but I purchased them a few years ago so I provided a different link below. This cellphone case is one of my favorites, both for the super cute pom-pom and because it doubles as a mirror.
I love the print on this dress but I wish the sleeves were 3/4 instead of capped. Not because I don’t love cap sleeves because I do! But because the cut on this particular dress just wasn’t working for me. I have small arms, so I was sort of swimming in the sleeves but if your arms are on the bigger side this might work for you. I matched the dress with a pink cardigan and it was pretty cute.
My favorite dress of the trip! Comfortable, nice cut and flattering. I got tons of compliments with this outfit. The dress comes with a black belt which I didn’t use because it’s basic af and I hate belting my dresses. I spent several hours on my feet and the shoes gave me no issues. They are a little hard to buckle but besides that I recommend these if you’re in the market for a cute kitten heel. They also have a bunch of cute color options so I might get another pair.
Let me know if you’d like more posts like this and please ask any questions you have about my outfits below!
Hi all! With the change in pricing to BookExpo ($300!) plus the upfront payment and stricter application process, many bloggers won’t be able to go to next year’s show. Scholarpitch wanted to do something to help marginalized bloggers so we’re happy to announce we’ll be choosing TWO bloggers from the PoC, LGBTQIA+ or Native American communities to get all days passes to BookExpo 2017. (One pass per blogger)
There’s more! I know some of you won’t be able to come to NYC for the event so in addition to the two passes we’ll also be giving away a collection of ARCS from the show (Titles TBD) to help you experience BookExpo, even if you can’t be there.
We have a form below where you’ll be able to choose between the BEA Pass or ARCS (*ARCS are only for people who can not attend the show.)
PLEASE only fill the form out once. If you do it more than once you’ll be disqualified and I’ll be really cranky with you for at least a week.
Please only select BookExpo Pass on the form if you either live in or know for sure you will be able to travel to NYC. Travel expenses are *not* part of the prize. We’re not made of money, pals (but I sort of wish I was.) So that’s it! Please fill out one of the two forms below & good luck!
(DEADLINE FOR THIS GIVEAWAY is JANUARY 15th, 2017)
FORM FOR BEA PASS or ARC Giveaway
Hey all! I’m pretty new to the YouTube world and run an AuthorTube (writing)/Booktube (duh, books) channel. I’ve started my very first tag called #Diverse8!
Diverse8 is eight questions about books and diversity meant to expand the conversation about equal and respectful representation in literature and the need for those books to be reviewed, discussed and promoted on BookTube. I’d love if you could like and share the original video and if you have your own BookTube channel please consider filming your own #Diverse8 tag video as well! Please find the video & questions below!
Hey all! I recently wrote a thread on Twitter about writing diversely which you can see here:
From that thread the term Magical Diversity Council was born and you can get your very own tshirt, sweatshirt or mug with the Magical Diversity Council logo on it. 50% of all proceeds from the merchandise will go to The David Ortiz Children’s Fund which is committed to helping children in New England and the Dominican Republic who do not have access to the critical pediatric services they need. 50% of all proceeds go to the fund and the merchandise is on sale for 10 days only!
Order your merchandise here: https://teespring.com/magical-diversity-council-merc#pid=370&cid=6546&sid=front
Se encontraron las masas en aquella esquinita floja.
Los niños no supieron distinguir el mal del bien,
creo que la sanidad no los dejaba.
Y por un instante pasamos desapercibidos.
Todos éramos uno, sin odio, sin agravio, llenos de amor.
El otoño apenas asomaba sus colores,
el Hudson vitrineando como siempre con su briza.
El tren con su vaivén bailando sobre el horizonte.
¿Y quién se encarga de pintar todas estas casas?
¿Quién decora las fachadas que resguardan sus tesoros?
¿Quién se inventa este arcoíris de inspiración?
Arte y chucherías, prendas, música,
comida, de todo un poco, y de nada hay mucho,
Y gente sobre la gente, sin incomodar a nadie.
El fiambre cantando sobre aromas confundidas
Desde la Chestnut hasta la West,
el Hudson Hill’s y Moo Moo’s ice cream,
el Bouchon y Silver Spoon.
Y los incrédulos levantan la mirada entregándose al casi mar del rio,
a la majestuosa…
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I left with the road in mind,and adventure as a matter of fact.I rode with what I left behind in mind,and sad as a matter of fact.And ahead were more day to leave behind,and roads to have ridden in the past.I left with the end in mind,and adventure, as a matter of fact!
You see, I was originally planning to leave on Thursday the 27th but due to a combination of procrastination , horrible weather, and a last minute cold I ended up leaving on Friday the 28th instead. Once I had left I realized I still had to run a couple of errand, so all things considered I officially left at 10am.
My plan was to head to Austin, TX as quick as possible (3 – 4 days) where I would meet Pat from 2ridetheglobe who has provided great insight in planning the…
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It was winter in Ridgefield. December to be exact. And that meant one thing: snow. Sheets of it were pulled around the houses like a giant white curtain, hiding them from the trees that surrounded everything. It covered the roofs, the mailboxes, the dogs. And Magnolia was almost certain it had made its way inside her left shoe. It was nothing like the city. Where snow fell and turned to grey mush beneath the feet of pedestrians in less than a minute. Here the snow fell in white tufts and stuck to every surface it could find. And it stayed there indefinitely.
But Magnolia, unlike the snow, was just passing through. On her way to track a witch.
“I knew. I knew I should’ve ridden my broom here,” she whispered to her left shoe, admonishing it for getting her wool socks wet. She had worn three on each foot. Just in case. A man in one of those hats with the fluff balls on the top of it walked by just then, and Magnolia smiled weakly. Had he heard her? If he had, he didn’t show it. He just smiled back and waved. Magnolia put her head down, plowing forward and passing the fountain at the entrance of town.
Witches weren’t so bad. Magnolia knew since she was one. But humans couldn’t know about them. No. Never. That would be very, very unfortunate.
“I’m here for a relic,” she practiced under her breath. A group of children skipped past her, kicking snow into the air.
Magnolia shielded her face from the flying snow and tried to focus on what she would tell him. The Collector. A chill that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature infiltrated her heavy black robe.
“I am here for a relic.” She tried with more assertion and yet another town’s person walked by and waved. She cursed herself for not performing an invisibility spell.
“Collector,” she said through her teeth, as ferociously as she could in a whisper, “I’m here for a relic and I won’t leave till you give it to me.” She poked one finger at the air, flurries gathering on her gloved hands.
By the time the family of very tall humans stalked past her like elegant giraffes, smiling and waving, Magnolia had lost what little cool she’d managed to dig her nails into.
“Will no one in this town let me concentrate?”
With two long strides the giraffe family had gone and Magnolia felt a wave of guilt wash over her. But then she remembered who she was going to see. Or more accurately what. Because The Collector was more thing than witch. More creature than human. More nightmare than reality.
Her socks soaked up more snow as she trudged down Main Street, rehearsing her tirade.
She looked around to see if she spotted any other Magicks around, but the tell-tale colorful aura that surrounded Magicks for a split second on sight didn’t seem to exist here. In the city it was like a small fireworks explosion to just walk down the street. Greens, purples and reds, in clouds of hazy light, surrounded both the Punks on Bleecker and the business men on Park. All Magicks and witches. All concealed in plain sight. But even New York City, with all its hidden shops and secrets, didn’t hold the answer she was looking for. A relic, or a thing from the past, that would allow her to look at a memory. It could be anything: a dress worn by a witch, a nickel held in the hand of a monster, a rock. It didn’t matter, so long as it was present at the very moment Magnolia needed to see. At the memory of some other witch she needed to creep into. Or of one very specific witch. Margo Pennyfeather.
Magnolia’s chest tightened with the thought of her but she pressed on. She needed to stop somewhere before she reached her destination and make sure she had everything. Her wand, her book, her weapon.
“Oh dear,” she whispered at her now sopping shoe. The weapon was something she did not like to think about. Not at all. But her apprentice Morrissey had found it prudent she have it.
“Take it,” she’d said in her soft way. “Take it or I’ll find a way to come with you. Your choice.”
Magnolia scowled. If Morrissey had come with her things would have been much, much worse. Because The Collector might not care to keep an old witch like her. But for one with Morrissey’s ability? He would do unspeakable things.
“Unspeakable,” she muttered, waving to a priest with a flashlight smile. She’d never waved so much in her entire life.
Crossing the street to Four Twenty-Six Main Street, Magnolia looked both ways before slipping into an alleyway. She pulled her wand from the sleeve of her dress, looking around and letting out tiny puffs of vapor as she did. When she was sure no one was looking she pointed the wand at her chest.
“Blot.” A wave of warmth washed over her and she hid her wand with much less caution. She was invisible now.
“Should’ve done that before I left New York,” her eyes scanned the doors along the brick walls. Doors that weren’t there a moment ago. That humans could not see. Chalk drawings sat above each entrance, signaling the name of each establishment. An owl with giant eyes for The Hoot, a bar for Magicks, a rabbit above another for The White Rabbit Inn, and a few others that were of no interest to her. “At least not right now,” she licked her lips at the small rodent drawn above The Rat cheese shop.
She reached the end of the building. A purple door with a skinny tree drawn in white chalk above it, the eerie tree enveloped in green mist: Hollibird’s Hole.
Magnolia pushed at the door and the smell of firewood, hot chocolate and what smelled suspiciously of burning hair, snaked its way up her nostrils. She took a deep breath and smiled.
“Yoo-hoo,” she waved her hand at the elderly bartender who grunted in response. So much for all the waving.
“You’re always too cheerful,” the bartender spit into a small gold tin on the wooden bar and flicked her wrist. A mug flew from a hook above her head and landed with a clank on the bar. The bartender snapped her finger, the mug filling to the brim with bubbling brown liquid and white floating clouds. “And you always did love marshmallows,” the bartender smiled a crooked smile with only a handful of teeth at Magnolia.
“Griswold, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.” Magnolia wrapped her numb hands around the hot cup and wished she could pour the chocolate down her dress to warm up. But that would probably be a bad idea. Definitely she thought as the hot liquid washed over her tongue and warmed her insides.
“I might’ve. Depends if you brought me one of those banana puddings I like.”
Magnolia produced a package from the inside of her robes. “I would never forget your pudding,” she winked.
“So what’re you doing here?” Griswold asked.
“I came to see someone.”
Griswold arched an eyebrow. Because they both knew there was only one other reason Magicks ventured beyond the city and into Ridgefield. The Collector.
“You can’t go there, Maggie,” hissed Griswold. “You know how dangerous he is.”
“It’s very, very important.”
“You say that about everything. Last time you called me saying, “I need a block of cheese from The Rat, it’s, “‘very, very important.’”
“Hush now, hush,” Magnolia waved her hand in front of Griswold’s face as she laughed, exposing the back of her too dark throat and lack of molars. “This is different. This has to do with…well, I can’t tell you.”
“If you can’t tell me, I can’t help ya,” Griswold began wiping the bar down.
Magnolia bit her lip. She was absolutely, forbidden from talking to anyone about the memory she had to find. The one she had to see before the entire Magick world was rewound. Erased. Doomed. No pressure.
“One step at a time,” she whispered at her shoe, which was drying as she stretched one leg out towards the fire.
Magnolia sighed. “I need a relic,” she confessed, “one tied to a witch.” Griswold nodded as if to say go on.
“A relic tied to Margo Pennyfeather,” Magnolia got out in the smallest whisper she could manage, but the blow of that name still nearly knocked Griswold off her feet.
“The Timeteller?” Griswold’s eyes had gone wide. Timetellers weren’t around anymore. They’d been hunted for their powers and killed off. It seemed the power to control time was something no witch could resist. But no one knew what happened to the last one. To Margo.
“Yes,” hissed Magnolia looking around, “But keep. It. Down. Will you?”
Griswold held her hands up.
“You wouldn’t happen to have anything that would help me? Some sort of potion maybe?” Magnolia asked.
Griswold arched an eyebrow before disappearing under the bar. Magnolia peaked over the wooden surface when Griswold popped up and nearly knocked her nose back to last Tuesday.
“Here,” she shoved a small bottle into Magnolia’s hand.
“What’s this? Oh, oh no!”
“Now you hush.”
They were both looking around like dogs in a park full of squirrels. Luckily there was only one witch with his back to them in the corner of the bar, a dozen or so glasses adorning the table in front of him.
Magnolia turned the bottle over in her hand, the pink liquid swishing inside of it. A Charm spell could make another Magick do anything you wanted. Like the force except it was illegal. Highly illegal.
“Use that and he’ll give you whatever you want,” Griswold smiled smugly. “You’re probably toast but at least this way you have a fighting chance.”
Magnolia nodded. She knew Griswold was right.
“I’ll be right back,” Magnolia walked towards the rest room.
Slipping into a stall, she opened her robe and felt for her supplies. She had her wand, she had her hollowed out book. And now she had her weapon. She put the Charm spell inside a secret pocket on the lapel of her robe and took a deep breath, pressing her warm hands against her still gelid cheeks. Soon she’d be out in the snow again. Waving like a mayor in a parade. Soon she’d be face to face with death.
“I’ve got to go,” Magnolia stood before Griswold, one hand behind her back.
“So soon?” Griswold didn’t look up from the bar.
But before she could finish her sentence, Magnolia had blown an electric purple powder into the air.
“Remember me not,” she whispered as she blew the lilac cloud towards Griswold and then towards the witch behind her. She’d bottled a Memory Keeper spell for just this occasion.
A dazed look overtook Griswold and Magnolia snuck out of the bar, taking the memory of their meeting with her. Soon it would be as if Magnolia had never been there at all.
Stepping out into the frigid cold, night had nearly fallen on Ridgefield, and Magnolia turned to her right. Towards the library.
There were no more pedestrians. No more giant dogs trying to eat snow. She was alone with the crows. It was if word had spread of her mission. As if everyone knew a witch was about to die.
She stepped in front of the giant doors to The Ridgefield Library and pulled.
“Oh.” The door did not budge. “Right.” Magnolia pulled out her wand and ran it along the place where the two doors met. Inside, she breathed in the smell of old books. She crept along the entrance and down the hallway and towards the stairs, knowing that the moment her hand touched the banister there would be no turning back. Because The Collector would know she was there.
In the Magick world there were all sorts of witches and creatures. Witches who could run at lightning fast speeds, or control nature and monsters who could suck the power from their prey. But The Collector was one of a kind. He not only took magic, he took actual witches. Kept them in his collection, siphoning off bits and pieces of them until they shriveled away like a wilted flower in the too hot sun. And he always stayed hidden. A shadow, a breeze that played with your hair, a whisper that lured you to your imprisonment. To your death.
“Tricky. I know you’re tricky,” Magnolia whispered. Her shoe was mercifully dry and she felt badly for yelling at it earlier, when it was doing such a good job of not being wet anymore. She took the small pink vial filled with magic and placed it gingerly inside the woolen socks on her left foot. With one final, deep breath, she placed her plump hand on the banister and was plunged into a darkness so black, she was certain she’d never actually seen before, and never would again.
All at once she was downstairs and in The Collectors lair. It still looked like a library, except ancient. Thousands of leather bound books with golden lettering were organized neatly in floor to ceiling shelves. But Magnolia knew better than to think they were simply books. No. These were The Collector’s cages.
“Magnolia,” an old man with spectacles too big for his small face stepped out from behind a shadow. “I expect your walk here was quite cold.” He smiled kindly but Magnolia shuddered. The smile was an ordinary one but a vision of blood-covered teeth appeared over it. Like he had two smiles in one mouth.
“Hideous,” whispered Magnolia despite herself.
“I know. Quite. Now, tell me why’ve come here? It’s…after hours.”
“I…need something…from,” she looked down. She needed to do this. If Magnolia was going to stop the Magick World from poofing, she needed to find out what’d happened to Margo. And fast. Or everything she knew, and loved would be lost.
“From my collection,” The Collector said and as he did he seemed to grow ten feet tall, stretched like an infinite, gruesome shadow, but small and old and frail all the same.
“Yes, but please listen. It’s important.”
“Nobody takes anything from my collection,” he ran one boney finger along the spines of the books closest to him, a black jagged nail growing from it.
Magnolia steeled herself and took one step forward.
“Not even sneaky, lying, thieves.”
Magnolia took another step.
“Your left shoe is quite nice.”
How had he known? She smiled weakly at him and nodded. “It’s my favorite shoe.”
“I can tell,” The Collector whipped his head towards her and flashed his bloody, double smile before shooting one hand towards her. A black putrid liquid oozed from his palm and snaked through the air.
“NO!” Magnolia shuffled back, pawing at her robes as she looked for her wand. Now she had no choice. She had to fight. She found the smooth wooden stick and pointed it at The Collectors head.
A bright green light shot from her wand, but missed.
The Collector cackled. He’d begun climbing the stacks like a twisted monkey, his old body limber and fast, his tall horrendous shadow figure and bloody teeth following him and enveloping his form.
“I’d quite like another Alchemist witch to add to my collection,” he said pleasantly.
“You won’t be trapping me you hideous thing,” Magnolia shot her wand at him again but this time The Collector swooped down and grabbed her by the ankles, slamming her on her back. Stars danced above Magnolia’s head. She was as good as dead.
“Now, now my simple friend. No rudeness or I’ll make this much more painful than I planned to.”
Everyone always thought she was simple. Magnolia knew they all thought she was dumb. But she also knew that looks could be deceiving. In fact, she counted on them being so.
She slammed her left heel against the floor and her dark leather shoe broke free of her foot and scampered away behind The Collector. Magnolia thrust her wand beneath his chin. Her woolen socks had wrapped themselves around his wrist, keeping them locked together.
“LET GO,” he roared trying to turn around and catch Magnolia’s shoe, which was never really a shoe at all. The leather thing transformed, revealing a small, furry creature. Her rat, Francisco. Using it’s tiny paws, the rodent pulled the cork and drank the pink liquid hungrily. Then he put the entire bottle in his mouth and ate that too. Just in case.
“I said just drink Francisco,” Magnolia grit her teeth, struggling to keep The Collector from biting her face off.
Glass crunched and popped inside the rat’s mouth as a pink mist seeped from its teeth. “Now?” he asked in his tiny voice and Magnolia managed a nod before Francisco, scurried up The Collectors back and to the top of his head.
“No, no, no!” wailed the creature but it was too late. Francisco opened his mouth and breathed the pink Charm magic right up The Collectors nose.
“It’ll need to be concentrated,” Magnolia heard Morrissey say, “You’ll need to get the spell so close he can’t help but breathe it in. It’s either kiss him or…something else.”
And Ricardo had been Magnolia’s something else.
A glazed look overtook The Collector’s eyes and Magnolia let out a sharp breath.
“Let go,” she commanded her socks and they did.
“Stop,” she told The Collector and his wild attempts to kill her stilled.
“You will be sorry,” he said his voice so loud the books threatened to tumble from their shelves.
“Give me the relic that holds the memory of Margo Pennyfeather’s fate,” Magnolia’s voice was shaky as she shuffled backwards.
“No,” said The Collector with his bloody smile, but he moved towards the shelves all the same. He took a book from a shelf towards the back of the room and waddled back to Magnolia, who had her wand trained on him, and Francisco on her shoulder.
“I only have the first part. You’ll need to find the rest elsewhere, if you live long enough to. I am going to kill you, you know.”
“Yes, of course,” Magnolia took the book from him and he snapped towards her hand wildly, but she told him to stop, and he had no choice but to listen. Charm spells really were useful. It was too bad about the illegal part.
She gave one final command. “Stay there until I am gone. Don’t follow me.”
Magnolia ran back towards the stairs, hiding the relic inside her hollowed-out book. She put her hand on the banister and could just hear The Collector as she was transported through the darkness and into the upper part of the library. “You will be quite delicious to eat when I catch you. And I will catch you. Of course.”
She shivered as she ran through the hallway and out the library double doors. She stepped right into a pile of snow. “Great,” she muttered looking at Francisco as he shrugged and scampered down her robe, wrapping himself around her foot, a shoe once more.
As soon as she was far enough from the library she smiled. She had done it. The relic was in her possession and, maybe, she’d be able to see what happened to Margo all those years ago & figure out the riddle of what was happening to her world today. But for now, there was nothing to do but go home. She trudged along, whispering compliments to Francisco for his good work as a new snow began to fall. Magnolia stopped and looked up into the starry night sky. Even the city sky, filled with magic, was not nearly as beautiful as this one. She opened her mouth wide and closed her eyes. The snowflakes melted the moment they touched her tongue.
When I first got this cover my brain was somewhere between “daaaaaaaaamn,” and “THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL!” So I’m excited to share it with you today! Kellye is my agency sister, a friend and a mentor who supports other writers and is a tremendous talent. I hope you enjoy the excerpt below, the gorgeous cover and most importantly order the book!
Special bonus! I will choose a random winner from everyone who buys Kellye’s book today to win a special prize! Make sure you use the #HollywoodHomicide tag and help us get Kellye trending! Also @ me on Twitter (@Claribel_Ortega) to let me know you’ve entered!
Title: Hollywood Homicide
Book 1 in the Detective By Day Series
Publisher: Midnight Ink
Release Date: August 8, 2017
Dayna Anderson doesn’t set out to solve a murder. All the semi-famous, mega-broke black actress wants is to help her parents keep their house. After witnessing a deadly hit-and-run, she figures pursuing the fifteen-grand reward isn’t the craziest thing a Hollywood actress has done for some cash.
But what starts as simply trying to remember a speeding car soon blossoms into a full-on investigation. As Dayna digs deeper into the victim’s life, she wants more than just reward money. She’s determined to find the poor woman’s killer too. When she connects the accident to a notorious Hollywood crime spree, Dayna chases down leads at paparazzi hot spots, celeb homes and movie premieres. She loves every second—until someone tries to kill her.
And there are no second takes in real life.
About Kellye Garrett
Kellye Garrett spent 8 years working in Hollywood, including a stint writing for the CBS drama Cold Case. People were always surprised to learn what she did for a living—probably because she seemed way too happy to be brainstorming ways to murder people. A former magazine editor, Kellye holds a B.S. in magazine writing from Florida A&M and an MFA in screenwriting from USC’s famed film school. Having moved back to her native New Jersey, she spends her mornings commuting to Manhattan for her job at a leading media company—while still happily brainstorming ways to commit murder. Her first novel, Hollywood Homicide, will be released by Midnight Ink in August 2017. It’s the first book in the Detective by Day series.
Connect with Kellye
You can pre-order the e-book and print edition on Amazon.
Hey nerds, today I’m going to lay some shit down because I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with a certain something: posts disparaging young adult fiction.
Whether it’s a boring dad-dude telling us how uncomplicated our stories are or posts on how easy it is to write/make money off young adult books- the think pieces taking a crap all over YA need to do one more thing: stop-for-fucking-ever.
The New York Times posted an article calling some YA “paranormal lunacy,” and while that might’ve made a cool new wave band name, it actually sets my face on fire with how insensitive it is.
The article mentions some kick ass books that I’m super excited about but you know the thing where you shouldn’t put something down as a way to celebrate another? The whole,
“She’s special, not like other girls” thing? Yeah the people who keep writing these posts don’t know how to say, “this is good,” without also saying, “this other thing though? It’s actually diarrhea.” They also don’t know that the “not like the other girls” trope is bad and we all make fun of it. Most likely because they don’t actually read the kinds of books they’re bashing.
A NYT piece glossing over an entire genre (SFF) as wacky and not worthy of being taken seriously, is akin to getting super pissed off about a satire article because you didn’t scroll to the end, then sharing it on Facebook. I know you only read the headline, you useless paperclip, and now your Aunt Helen does too. Be ashamed.
It’s time for people who write think pieces to actually think for two minutes, maybe three, before insulting an entire community of hardworking writers. Many of whom are trying to break into an industry where we are historically and overwhelmingly underrepresented. Otherwise, your article is less of a think piece and more of a piece of something else. And frankly, we’re tired of everyone’s shit.
Interview librarians, booksellers, I don’t know perhaps YA authors who celebrate rather than bash their peers. Authors who actually read YA and didn’t crop up just to tell the rest of us how badly we’re doing it.
This is not against any of the authors in The New York Times and the important issues they’re tackling head on. I support them. But I don’t support the assumption that genre fiction is not also capable of carrying that weight. It ignores books like SHADOWSHAPER (which talks about gentrification and self-image among many other things) THE GIRL FROM EVERYWHERE (mental health issues) and yes even thought it’s not fantasy, HUNGER GAMES ( because if kids killing one another to survive in a dictatorship is not gritty, I don’t know what is.) It ignores these books in favor of the regurgitated, “Wasn’t Twilight terrible?” argument we’ve been hearing since K-Stew sighed her way through all five movies. And these are just three of many, many examples. All lumped under one label that fails to recognize their depth, their complexity, their worth.
And always with the Twilight bashing. It’s such an easy/predictable target at this point. Not only are you clueless about YA bu you’re also unoriginal. Pick a struggle. (Also you probably read and loved Twilight you lying piece of stale potato bread.)
A more interesting approach would’ve been how the current sociopolitical climate in our world is informing some of the books that are being published. How great it is that YA writers are helping kids understand movements like Black Lives Matter. Or that writers of color are being published and doing amazing work. No where in any of those scenarios do other writers (of an entire genre) need to be insulted.
But of all the crappy, misinformed parts of articles like these, the part that’s really the rocket up the ass, is how they disrespect YA’s intended audience. Yeah, remember teens? They’re reading those pieces too, desperate for info on their most anticipated releases and in the process being told the other books they love are garbage juice. Or the teen writer who just mustered the courage to write that paranormal novel and is now too embarrassed to keep going. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but teens kind of love that stuff you call “lunacy.” Way to go you spam-email -of -a-human. Your Aunt Helen might think your post was no big deal, but it matters to us. It hurts writers. It annoys us and angers us and we have to read a new article about how clueless/useless/shallow we are every other week. So to sum it up, I respectfully and not so respectfully disagree AF with everyone who dismisses all the wonderful layers contained within YA books. You can fight me, Aunt Helen.
Hello nerds! Today I have my fourth guest of the #Amquerying series, the amazing Texas-loving Katie Golding! For those of you who don’t know, querying is the process of procuring a literary agent and it can be equal parts soul crushing and fantastic. I started this series while I was smack in the middle of my querying journey and thought it would be great to share stories from already agent-ed authors with you all. You can follow Katie on Twitter here and read below to find out how she got her agent, her love of video games, her feelings on the possible vampire-revival in publishing and more!
How did you prepare for querying? Did you use query tracker or any similar tools?
Is there a way to prepare for querying other than clutching your beta tight and hoping for the best? I’m not sure, but other than that, I used Agentquery.com and did a lot of blog scouring, a lot of revising, and a lot of twitter query critique contests.
How did you research the agents you queried? Any helpful websites you can share?
Really, I started by Googling “romance literary agents”. Yep, I’m pretty basic even on my best days. Writersdigest.com has database that I used extensively to find out who was open to submissions, and once I had a list, I looked closely at their personal websites to figure out their submission guidelines. Also, I have a great group of CPs who would recommend agents that were popping up on their radar, but may not have pinged on mine for whatever reason.
I hear you like to suffer and queried multiple books at once, can you tell me about that?
Well, first, DON’T DO THIS! It is a ridiculous thing and causes more problems than good! *laughs* But yes, I started to query one book, while finishing writing/revising another unrelated novel. By Christmas, my patience to keep the second book hidden in the drawer fully gave out, and I entered it in a twitter contest just to see what kind of response it would get and if anyone was interested. They were, and then everything got really, really complicated.
Apart from just keep track of who had what and how much of it, when I received an offer of rep on Book B, I had to contact agents that had fulls of Book A, and tell them I was getting offers on a novel they didn’t even know I had written! There were questions of what happens to Book A if I sign on Book B, which one I wanted to focus on more but OFFER OF REP and DREAM AGENT and just…chaos. All the chaos. In the end, it worked out for me because I wouldn’t have met my agent if I hadn’t taken the chance with putting the second novel in the twitterverse, but for anyone who wants to stay sane, I highly recommend querying/contest’ing only one book at a time.
You used to write Vampire Diaries fanfic & there have been rumors that people in publishing are trying to make vampires happen again. What are your feelings on this?
I wrote a ton of The Vampire Diaries fanfic, like somewhere in the vicinity of nearly a million words, so you’d think I’d be sick to death of vampires by now. But really, if vamps are coming back in publishing, I don’t have a problem with it. The story can contain vampires, or space cowboys, or a king in ancient Persia and as long as there is a reason for a character to be that, and that it’s being used as a tool to explore the full range of themes instead of just flashing fang for the sake of it, I’m down. After all, what we’re really reading/writing about is love and the human condition, the tantalizing question of “What if I made all the wrong choices, and it brought me all the right things?” Vampires are just a very comfortable way for us to anchor those stories in a way that readers can relate to. Bring ‘em on.
What was the querying process like for you? Can you share stats? If not, can you tell us a timeline of how long it took for you to get your agent? How many bottles of wine did you drink, approximately?
Well, I could tell you, but my therapist has advised against me recollecting this dark and difficult time. No, that’s a lie. It really wasn’t too bad, though the process was—I would say—standardly long? It was long enough that I was ready to be done by the time it was over.
Stats: I queried my first novel starting in April of 2014, and it went out 41 times before it was shelved. My second novel went out June 2015, and it had 25 different hooks thrown in the water before I ended up retracting it. My third book I technically never queried. I twitter pitched it during #PitchMas (while still querying my second book like a geeeenyus), sent my queries and synopsis and pages to the agents who had made requests, and I officially signed that book with one of those agents the following April.
So it took me three books (plus the two I self-pubbed and pubbed through Kindle Scout in between), two years (almost to the day), multiple contests (#PitchSlam, #PitMad, #PitchMas, #WritePit, Write Club, plus more I’m probably forgetting), and god-only-knows how much wine and cheese and how many really big cheeseburgers I went through. Oh, and chocolate. Can’t forget the chocolate.
How did you feel during the process of querying? Anxious, cool? Dog-sitting-in-a-burning-room-meme-stressed?
Man, I was so cool, I was basically Matthew McConaughey and just walked around repeating, “Alright, alright, alright . . . ” You know, like we Texans do. Um, truthfully, I held it together as well as I expect anyone does. You have your good days, you have your days where you want to give up and question everything, and you have your days where you don’t even think about it because you’re too busy writing. Those are the ones you should strive for, because as fun as getting requests are, you’ll always be waiting on an email, no matter what stage of the game you’re in.
How did you cope with the emotions involved with querying? Did you keep busy doing anything else?
I have a great support team that keeps me working and laughing constantly. It’s a system I wouldn’t trade for anything. I’m also a fan of relieving stress via video games, anything from racing cars to puzzles to first person shooters works wonders for me when I’m not working on the next project. And there should always be a next project.
Anything unexpected about the querying process for you?
I think everything was unexpected, really. I think, now, I can say that I initially didn’t expect for it to take so long, yet I didn’t expect it to go by so fast either. I didn’t expect the community of other writers that I found in the process, or the bonds that we made. I certainly didn’t expect it to end with a tweet and not a query, and I didn’t expect that once I was out of the trenches, I would still be writing more query letters for myself, simply to help plot future books! It never ends!
If you could give querying authors one piece of advice what would it be?
Apart from finding a fountain of never-ending patience and living the rest of your life in it, just make sure you can be found. And what I mean is that more than just having your website pop up in an SEO, that you’re putting yourself out there every way that’s open to you. Instead of just querying and relying on someone sorting through the slush pile, participate in the writing community through contests and by promoting others, reading and leaving reviews, and even by simply talking to those who are talking about writing on social media. You never know when or where you could get “discovered.”
Did other writers come into play in terms of helping to manage stress/share good or bad news/revise your query or opening pages?
Only in the sense that without them, my heart, soul, and career would be the equivalent to applesauce right now. My beta/CP Michelle Hazen is my rock, and between spamming me lists of agents to query and mailing me cheer-up cheese post rejections, she talked to me about her own journey. We traded queries that worked, many that didn’t, and we bumbled our way through the process together. It also helped that while I’m quite introverted, she is not, and along the way, she made a lot of great contacts that I quickly stuck my face into, trying to keep her all to myself while also stealing her pre-readers for my own books. #Sorrynotsorry We share a lot of CPs and pre-readers for that reason. And she finds really good pre-readers.
Your call was literally a Christmas miracle; can you tell us about it? Also, were you wearing reindeer PJS?
Oh man, I so should’ve been wearing reindeer PJs! That would’ve been so great! Alas, I think I was wearing probably three pairs of pants and four sweaters because Texans hate winter. It’s a fact. But basically, a request from #PitchMas very quickly became a request to call me and talk. On Christmas Eve. My response was somewhere along the lines of: Yes, agent, yes I will talk to you on Christmas Eve and have all my dreams come true. Sign me up. So . . . Christmas Eve came. She called. We talked. I had galaxies of stars in my eyes when she said my writing was “addicting,” and my feet were still somewhere in the stratosphere even after hearing the words “revise” and “resubmit.” But once we hung up, I finished decorating my tree, and at approximately 12:01 am on December 26th, I went to work. Tore the book apart about a billion times over, and when I resubmitted it, I don’t think I breathed again until I heard back. The answer was yes, and we signed some really cool papers with a rather lovely couple of names on them. *wipes away happy tears*
Describe the querying process in 3 gifs
Tell us a little about your upcoming book/what’s next for you.
I’m starting a new project right now and I’m so excited for it! It’s an adult romance that gets behind the wheel of a rally car—with her in the driver’s seat, and him in the passenger. It’s going to be a little darker, and a lot sexier than what I usually write, and I can’t wait to see where the characters are going to take me. Outside of that, I recently started an interview series on my blog called Writers on the Rise. I’m speaking to writers who are currently in the process of querying, asking who they are, what they write, and how we can support them in their journey. The response has been even more positive than I could have hoped.
Anything else you’d like to share??
ONE BOOK AT A TIME, PEOPLE! LOL No really, just know that every one of you is undeniably awesome, and no one—no rejection—can change that. Oh, and eat tacos often. They help with just . . . everything.
Katie Golding is sports fan with a writing problem. The former English major at Texas State University resides in Austin, Texas, ever trying to teach her son to throw a perfect football spiral while counting down the days to the next MotoGP race. With her husband taking on dinner duties in support of her writing time, she self-published two contemporary romance novels and can frequently be found blogging about tacos and typos. She is currently at work on both her golf swing and her next romance novel. RWA; represented by Shira Hoffman of McIntosh & Otis, Inc.
Follow her on Twitter @KatieGolding_TX
Website and Blog: www.KatieGoldingBooks.com
I want to tell you about my son
Because he’s really smart and he gets straight A’s
Because he’s an athlete and he’s funny and kind
I want to tell you about my son
Because he’s never said a curse word in front of his mother
Never come home drunk or high
Never punched a wall or driven too fast
I want to tell you about my son because he’s tall too tall for his age
Too big too strong too present
Because he’s too beautiful
He’s too young
His parents from and land of water and sun
But his skin is too dark
Someone will see him
Someone will notice
I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared
If something happens they’ll say he asked for it
He deserved it because he had something on him he didn’t have
Because he’s a bad kid and nobody knew
But I want to tell you now, none of it’s true
Just in case
Just in case
Because I’m worried everyday
We’re worried every day
We’re tired every day
We’re angry every day
Angrier and angrier
So, I want to tell you about my son
Because he’s good and he’s kind
But even if he wasn’t
His skin isn’t reason enough
For him to die
There have been quite a few awful blog posts, videos and speeches given regarding the discussion of diversity in publishing in the past few weeks. Some of these opinion pieces have led to harassment, to trolling, to people leaving Twitter and blocking half a village.
There has been a push towards inclusiveness in the publishing world lately and it’s normal to see push back. Change always begets fear. Fear sometimes leads to opposition. Like any discussion on any sensitive topic there will be people who get upset, people who take it to the extreme with things like death threats which are completely ridiculous, and people who express their anger pointedly.
The discussion about diversity has largely been about one message: creating space for all of us. Yet, over and over again, I see authors and bloggers choose to focus on the anger that is a part of the discussion instead of the discussion itself. This is taking away from what we should really be talking about and it’s not only frustrating, it’s breeding more anger.
This past week a wonderful initiative called #Diverseathon was started by a group of Booktubers to promote reading diverse titles. #DVpit, a Twitter event geared towards showcasing pitches about and especially by marginalized voices, has had over FIFTEEN successful agent/author matches just since April, there are WoC on the NYT bestseller list, and yet all the think pieces I see by white bloggers and authors are focusing on how horrible the “hate culture” has become on Twitter. Focusing on the fighting instead of the issues and how we can tackle them, only speaking out to complain about how censored they feel or how little they care about diversity in the first place.
I realize this blog post is just another circling the discussion instead of focusing on solutions and the discussion itself but the thing is, I do focus on those things, every day. I live it. I write about it, talk about it, both publicly and privately. I was getting so many questions on Twitter re: Ownvoices, things that could be easily googled, that I had to temporarily close my DMs to get any work done. I do my part by writing books about brown girls like me, by researching even though I grew up in my own skin, so I make sure I get it right. I largely try to keep it positive because I don’t like fighting. But I’m human and I get fed up too.
When there is a dust up on Twitter, it’s not just because we felt like being angry that day. In fact we’re pretty tired of it. That “pointless fight” you’re seeing is likely the result of days of harassment or discussion which escalates, of a completely different post somewhere that has angered us and we’re discussing it openly. People jump into our mentions and demand we explain, try to placate with “we are the world” sentiments, without even understanding what we’re talking about because they’re not part of the daily discussion and struggle. If they were, they’d get it. I see people routinely defended against “bullies” championing diversity, yet when I am told to “go back to Afghanistan” (I’m not from there btw) or that I am “just too sensitive,” or “probably just a shitty writer,” for expressing myself respectfully and not talking about anyone in particular, those same bully fighters are nowhere to be seen. I am not afforded the same luxury of speaking out without being harassed yet I’m asked to not even critique someone’s approach to writing my culture. Where is our “extension of grace?”
When authors get a bad review, the number one rule is do not engage. Because a reader has every right to critique your work. If your work is being called out publicly for being problematic it’s nothing against you personally and you should take the same approach. Nobody I know or respect is trying to censor anyone. How could we? We’re struggling to get into publishing ourselves! The only thing we want is respect. The only thing we want is respect. The only thing we want is respect.
I say this over and over, my friends say this over and over, marginalized voices say this over and over, our supporters say this over and over and yet people will still focus on the anger and not the message. The anger is easy to rail against. It’s easy to say, “I don’t like how volatile things have gotten on Twitter,” because nobody likes that, I certainly don’t. But ask yourself why aren’t you discussing the actual issue? What about the lack of PoC in children’s books? What about the lack of black writers in SFF magazines and books? The small percentage of publishing positions occupied by people of marginalized backgrounds? This is what we’re talking ABOUT and yet that you won’t touch? You rather focus on the fights and there’s a reason for that. The only thing we want is respect and you are not willing to give us even that.
Most authors get their agents through the slush pile. That is, sending their query to an agent’s email inbox and standing out among the thousands of other writers in there. But there are other ways….
This little tweet here got me my literary agents. I posted it on Twitter last April during #DVpit, a Twitter event created to showcase works about and especially by marginalized voices. By May I was signed to Fuse Literary. Sounds easy, but remember this came after years of writing, revising, crying and a few months of querying. #DVpit has more specific rules but there are other contests such as #Pitmad that are open to everyone.
During these events you will pitch your book using the indicated # for the specific contest and then identifiers like #YA (for young adult) or #UF for urban fantasy. Usually you can only tweet one pitch per hour, then wait for an agent or editor to fav your pitch and send them your query and sometimes opening pages depending on their submission guidelines. This is useful because many times agents read requested materials from these events first and it allows agents to find YOU instead of the other way around. A full list of rules and mechanics for each event is posted on their respective websites.
While Twitter pitch contests like #DVpit & #Pitmad aren’t replacements for traditional querying, they can definitely help you bypass the line all while improving your book pitching skills.
I would also like to point out that the agents/editors and publishers participating during #Pitmad aren’t curated so PLEASE make sure to do your research before you submit to them! I have a story on what happens to you when you don’t and it’s not pretty.
If you’re planning on participating in #DVpit or any of the other contests out there please check out my video! I gathered a collection of tips from authors and agents on pitching via Twitter events that will be super helpful for any querying writers. Make sure to like and subscribe to my channel for more videos & if you have any questions about these events leave me a comment on YouTube and I’ll do my best to answer it! Good luck!
#MuseMon hosted by (ME!) @Claribel_Ortega
With a new music inspired theme each week, my own writer event #MuseMon is a great way to kick off the week.
#LoveLines hosted by @ellekarmawrites @AmandaKWrites
Share your lines about love and relationships from any genre! Optional themes posted each week.
#2BitTues hosted by @AngDonofrio
#1lineWed hosted by @RWAKissofDeath
#ThruLineThurs hosted by @Madd_Fictional and @GurlKnoesSciFi
#Thurds hosted by @iamfunkhauser
#FictFri hosted by @Gracie_DeLunac
#FP hosted by @LoonyMoonyLara and @AdeleSGray, you can also follow @FridayPhrases
#FriDare hosted by @micascotti
#SlapDashSat hosted by @Madd_Fictional – No rules for this event!
#SunWIP hosted by @JudyLMohr
Sometimes doing exactly what you want to do is hard. I write fanciful novels about a magical detective. I love them. They’re silly and meaningful and ridiculous and fun. Also, sometimes, they’re hard. Writing a book, it turns out, is a lot of writing. When the pressure of deadlines and the slog of getting sh* done starts to make what I love feel like a JOB (gasp)… I’ve found that I have three options:
A colleague of mine arranged for the author Jacquelyn Mitchard to visit our students last year. Mitchard spoke about her debut The Deep End of The Ocean being selected as Oprah’s first ever Book Club book. She talked about her process and was generally a very intelligent and engaging guest. My favorite moment was her reply to the classic, “What do you do when you get writer’s block?” question…
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